"It will hardly be optional," I said. "My mind is too active in a very different direction from books to make me profit from reading. The labour would only be mechanical." "I wish, Sir, you would direct me to employ the interval in some way useful to yourself. I shall be eating the bread of idleness--a food I have little relish for." "You will be doing nothing of the sort," I answered; "your society gives me pleasure, and besides, we may take a holiday now and then, may we not? We have done very well. In the time you have been here, you have advanced me further than I could have done alone in twelve months." He bowed, thanking me for my assurance, and expressed his gratitude for the unfailing politeness and liberal hospitality he had enjoyed during his residence. He had recovered from his surprise or shock of the preceding night. Yet there was upon his manners and in his expression a shadow whose presence I could mark, though whose meaning I could not read. The subtle alteration would have been inappreciable to one who had watched him less closely than I, and who had been less often in his company. There was a light now in his eye which had not been there before. His energy, the swift gesture, the sharp vanishing smile, the quick contraction of the brow, were moderated, sobered, by a stealthy composure. I attributed the change, vague and slight as it was, to the fright he had received. "This hint of unfamiliar repose," I said to myself, "may be the effect of repressed irritability, excited by his last night's involuntary confession of weakness or cowardice." I had a part to play, however, which gave my thoughts full employment. I left Martelli and strolled about the grounds until lunch-time. I then returned, despatched a light meal, took my hat, and left the house. Elmore Cottage was not above five minutes' walk from my house by the road. I could have wished it ten times the distance. I approached it timorously, and gazed bashfully under the concealment of the hedge. It was an exquisitely clean little place: the walls white, the windows burnished and draped with snowy muslin. The lower windows were veiled with flowers. I hoped its mistress would not see me enter. I rather prayed that she might be in the garden. I pushed open the gate with a quick hand and gained the door. My thin and doubtful appeal with the knocker was promptly answered by a young woman, tidy, grave, and comely. I asked for Mrs. Fraser. I was answered that she was out. "She will not be out to me," said I, "if you will say that I am come to speak with her on a matter of great consequence to herself." The servant eyed me shrewdly, though not disrespectfully. "But Mrs. Fraser is out, Sir," said she. "Mrs. Fraser is not out," I exclaimed in a steady voice. "Come, allow me to walk in. Must I repeat that I have come to see Mrs. Fraser on very important business?"